


Daisy, if it’s a girl

by stjarna



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: A hint of Pipsy sprinkled in for good measure, AU, Crack, Daisy & Fitz roommates, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, neighbors to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-05-02 06:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14538999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Fitz needs a plus-one for a company event and his roommate Daisy refuses to go. But maybe she can find an even better alternative.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to @dilkirani for the beta.  
> Banner by me.
> 
> Yeah, yeah, I know, I have some unfinished WIPs and maybe shouldn't start a new one, but *shrugs*...
> 
> Three chapters estimated.

“Hey, Fitz.”

Fitz looked up from his desk at Bobbi. His immediate supervisor stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest. A mysterious half-smile played on her lips that put Fitz on high-alert.

“Hey, Bobbi. What do you need?”

Bobbi raised her eyebrows as if she couldn’t believe Fitz had seriously just asked that question. “I’m still waiting for you to confirm that you’re bringing a plus-one to the fundraiser on Friday.”

Fitz swallowed, staring at Bobbi with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. “Umm.”

Bobbi slumped her shoulders. “Fitz, you know this fundraiser is the biggest company event of the year. You know it’s mandatory. You know it’s mandatory to bring a plus-one. You know Price is up my ass trying to make sure that everyone complies with her little policy.”

Fitz’s hand flew to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. He felt the sudden onset of sweat gathering on his skin. “Umm, yeah,” he stammered.

Bobbi sighed, pursing her lips and shrugging slightly. “Guess, I’ll have to ask Aida again. She didn’t seem to mind last year.”

Fitz’s eyes widened in panic. “Umm. Umm. Umm. No. No, no, no. You don’t have to—”

Bobbi grinned mischievously at Fitz’s reaction, before lifting her shoulders and fanning her arms out in an apologetic gesture. “Fitz, invitations were sent out two months ago and you’ve made no effort to ask someone, just like you didn’t make any effort to ask someone last year. So, I’m sorry, I realize that Aida can be a bit much sometimes, but you need a—”

“Yeah, no,” Fitz interrupted Bobbi, gesturing at her palm-up. “I… I got a plus-one,” he blurted out.

Bobbi squinted skeptically. “Really?”

Fitz nodded vigorously. “Yeah, yes, absolutely. I… I asked her yesterday… That’s why I hadn’t told you yet, because I only just asked her yesterday and now is the first time I’ve seen you today, so… so that’s why I didn’t tell you until just now, but I have a plus-one, definitely, definitely a plus-one. You don’t have to ask Aida.”

Fitz balled his hands into fists, pressing his lips together and looking pleadingly at Bobbi, whose expression looked anything but convinced. She stared at him in silence as if she were trying to read his thoughts, before her finger darted up, pointing straight at Fitz’s chest like a knife.

“I swear to God, Fitz, if your plus-one conveniently comes down with the flu or gets run over by a bus, I will—”

Fitz waved his hands horizontally across each other. “No, no, no, she won’t. I swear. She… she’s not made up. She’ll be there. She’ll be 100% healthy. She’s looking forward to it.”

Bobbi exhaled sharply, her facial muscles finally relaxing. She scoffed briefly in amusement, shaking her head. “Well then _I’m_ looking forward to meeting this mystery woman.”

Fitz swallowed before clearing his throat, which suddenly felt incredibly tight. He forced a smile, nodding as he watched his supervisor leave.

Once Bobbi was out of sight, Fitz hid his face in his palms, letting out a deep groan.

* * *

“Come on, please!” Fitz pleaded with his best friend and roommate as they walked down the street towards their building.

“No can do,” Daisy replied dryly before taking a sip of her coffee. She stopped in front of their entrance door and pulled out her keys.

“Daisy, I’m begging you,” Fitz tried again, pressing his palms together and staring at his friend.

Daisy looked back at him wide-eyed, holding the door open and waiting for him to enter the building. “Fitz, Piper and I bought tickets for this concert months ago. There’s no fucking way I’m going to your work thing instead.”

Fitz grimaced, slumping his shoulders and stepping inside. He turned around to face Daisy again, raising his hands in a pleading gesture in one final desperate attempt. “Please, help me, Daisy! You can name my firstborn! Please.”

Daisy unsuccessfully tried to suppress a snort. “You’d need to procreate for that offer to work.” She placed her hand on Fitz’s shoulder. “I’m currently not very hopeful in that regard.”

Fitz was too tired to come up with a comeback. “She’s going to make me go with Aida again, Daisy,” he remarked, defeat lacing his tone. “Aida!”

One corner of Daisy’s mouth quirked up in pity. “Sorry, dude, but—”

“Well, hello there, neighbors!”

Fitz’s and Daisy’s heads shot around in the direction of the chipper voice. Fitz’s lips pulled into a shy smile reflexively as he watched their neighbor, Jemma Simmons, walk down the stairs, her face beaming with joy as usual.

She'd moved into their building about a month ago, introducing herself to all other tenants with freshly-baked muffins that tasted like heaven. He’d overheard her chatting with Daisy in the hallway a few times and it was clear as day that she was one of the most fascinating and smartest people he'd ever met. But whereas his roommate had the ability to strike up a casual conversation with just about anyone, Fitz lost the ability to speak the Queen’s English each time he saw her, becoming fluent in Moron instead. In fact, he'd decided it would be best to keep any verbal communication with her to a minimum, ever since she'd knocked at their door asking if she could borrow an egg and Fitz had handed it to her saying, “Are you sure one’s enough? I'm feeling egg-ceptionally generous today.”

“Hey, Jemma,” Daisy replied to Jemma’s chipper greeting, pulling Fitz out of his thoughts.

Somehow he managed to mumble a quiet greeting of his own.

“Isn’t it just gorgeous outside?” Jemma asked, smiling widely and scrunching her nose in that rather adorable way that always made Fitz’s stomach flutter.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful today,” he replied, relieved that his voice didn't crack.

Jemma’s grin grew even wider at his response. “Work was rather tedious today and part of me just wants to lie down on the sofa and curl up under a blanket with a book, but it would be a shame to waste this lovely weather, so I decided I should go for a walk instead.”

“Yeah, we just went on a coffee run.” Fitz lifted his cup a bit higher. “Or, well, tea in my case.”

Jemma chuckled quietly.

“Dude, why don’t you ask _her_?”

Fitz’s head spun around to look at Daisy in confusion. “Wha—?”

Daisy gestured at Jemma. “You should ask _her_!”

“Ask me what?” Jemma attempted to ask quietly, but Fitz’s ears barely picked up her words.

“Have you gone mad?” Fitz stared at Daisy wide-eyed.

“What?” Daisy shrugged, her hand again extended in Jemma’s direction. “She’s nice. She’s smart. She’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Well, thank you, Daisy,” Jemma tried to chime in. “You’re not really my type but—”

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean I can just ask her—” Fitz countered Daisy’s argument.

“Alright,” Jemma called out loudly, raising both hands.

Both Fitz and Daisy looked at their British neighbor, who began smiling once she noticed that she had their attention.

“Maybe we could stop talking about me in the third person like I’m not actually here and one of you can tell me what Fitz should ask me about,” she said, her curious gaze wandering back and forth between Fitz and Daisy.

“Umm,” Fitz muttered, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks.

Daisy didn’t seem nearly as shy. She gestured at Fitz whilst looking at Jemma, a mischievous half-grin playing on her lips. “Fitzy here has a mandatory work function on Friday. Huge fundraiser. You _have_ to bring a plus-one. But Mr. Hermit here never asked anyone even though he’s known about it for two months. So now his supervisor is threatening to set him up with the same obnoxious fake-date as last year, because she’s an evil genius who knows how to torture him for his attempted non-compliance with company policy.”

Fitz grimaced, covering his eyes with his hand and pressing his fingers against his skull to counteract the sudden onset of a throbbing headache. At least that way he wouldn’t have to watch the embarrassment Daisy was putting him through.

“He asked _me_ ,” Daisy continued, “but Piper and I have concert tickets and no amount of pleading will make me cancel that, so, when _you_ came down the stairs I thought—”

“Oh, well of course.”

Fitz looked up in surprise, unsure whether he’d heard correctly. “Wha—?”

Jemma beamed back at him. “I’d be more than happy to accompany you.”

“Really?” Fitz stared at her in utter disbelief.

Her smile grew even wider. “Of course. I have no plans. It sounds like a lovely charity event, and I wouldn’t want you to suffer through it in unpleasant company.” She furrowed her brow, her eyes nonetheless sparkling with mischief. “Unless you consider my company unpleasant.”

Fitz shook his head vigorously. “No. No, no, no. Not unpleasant. Definitely not unpleasant.”

“Well, then it’s settled.” Jemma scrunched her nose, grinning happily. She raised her index finger, as if asking for a moment to herself, before opening her purse and reaching inside. She pulled out a business card, extending it in Fitz’s direction. “Here’s my mobile number. Just text me the details?”

Fitz took the card in slow-motion, stammering a quiet “Uh-huh” as confirmation.

“Excellent. Now if you’ll excuse me—” Jemma smiled brightly at Fitz and Daisy, “—I’ll head on my walk now.”

“Enjoy the sun,” Daisy said, while Fitz barely managed to nod in silence.

Jemma walked past them towards the exit.

It took Fitz a moment to regain his voice. “Thanks, Jemma,” he called after her.

She turned around, her lips pulled ear to ear. “Of course. I look forward to it.”

Fitz stared after her open-mouthed, watching as the door fell shut behind her.

He felt like in a trance or dream, still not comprehending what had just happened.

It wasn’t until his head snapped back when Daisy gave his chin a nudge to close his mouth that he was somewhat brought back to reality.

He looked at Daisy, who was grinning widely and triumphantly.

“Daisy, if it’s a girl. I’ll get back to you with a boy’s name,” she said, deadpan, before turning on her heels to head up the stairs.

“I thought you weren’t very hopeful about the prospect of me procreating?” Fitz called after her.

Daisy looked over her shoulder, wiggling her eyebrows. “I suddenly feel a lot more optimistic.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, hello, so this update took WAY longer than I thought, but I went on vacation and then the finale happened and well... life!
> 
> But here we are, and to make up for the long wait, the chapter count went up by one (and hopefully you won't have to wait two months for the next chapter). And I made [a little banner](https://78.media.tumblr.com/7c8412735421a7fe82daa4ea9dd3b039/tumblr_paughwheCa1vejik0o1_1280.jpg), too :)

Bobbi stretched one arm out to keep the door to the lift open when she saw Fitz rushing towards her, fumbling to get the second strap of his backpack over his shoulder.

He stumbled into the elevator cabin, making a 180-turn and grabbing onto the rail with one hand while trying to catch his breath.

Bobbi tried in vain to suppress an amused chuckle as she retreated her arm and pressed the button to the ground floor instead. The doors closed slowly and the elevator set in motion.

“Heading home early to get ready for the big event, too?” Bobbi asked, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Fitz’s head shot in her direction, his chest still heaving with short little breaths. “Wha—?” he muttered, his brow furrowed, before her question appeared to have reached his brain. “Oh, yeah. Get ready. Yeah.”

“Good,” Bobbi nodded, eying the engineer up and down, before squinting at him questioningly.

“Soooo,” she remarked slowly, pursing her lips. “Do I need to call Aida last minute, or—?”

“Wha—? No!” Fitz shook his head vigorously, gesturing at the closed elevator doors. “I told you, I asked someone. She—she lives in my building. She’s British. She’s brilliant. She can hold a conversation. Hell, she’s even a scientist. She’ll fit right in. You’ll wanna hire her on the spot and kick me out.”

He gave a little upward motion with his still extended hand for emphasis, before quickly looking away, exhaling a sharp sigh.

Bobbi couldn’t help the smile that suddenly tugged on her lips as she noticed a slight blush to his cheeks. She pressed her lips together, realizing that she probably shouldn’t add to her friend’s apparent nervousness.

The elevator doors opened with a ding and Fitz straightened up, grabbing both straps of his backpack and exhaling sharply as if he were ready for battle.

Bobbi reached over, gently squeezing his shoulder and giving him an encouraging smile. “Well, I look forward to meeting her,” she said, keeping her tone as soft as possible to ensure he knew the sentiment was genuine.

The corners of his mouth quirked up for a split second, before he cleared his throat and headed out the elevator and for the exit.

* * *

Fitz stared at the door in front of him, his arms hanging by his sides, his fingertips nervously rubbing against the clammy heels of his hands.

His heart was beating rapidly, his throat felt tight, and the fact that he was wearing a tux and a tie and that Daisy had made a well-meaning but as usual teasing remark about his slacks bringing out the best of his arse didn’t help to calm down his nerves.

He balled his fists, opening and closing his hands in quick succession, trying to slow down his breathing. He inhaled even more deeply than the previous time, closing his eyes and holding his breath for a few seconds before exhaling through rounded lips and opening his eyes again.

He cleared his throat, bringing up his right hand and finally working up the courage to knock.

“Won’t be but a second,” Jemma’s chipper voice could be heard, muffled by the door separating them.

Fitz squinted, trying to analyze the various sounds he heard on the other side. Finally, he heard some scraping and intermittent clacking, the sounds of a woman shuffling down a hallway with one shoe on but still trying to put on the other.

The door suddenly swung open, and Fitz felt almost blinded by Jemma’s beaming smile.

“Hello!” Jemma sung cheerily. “So sorry to keep you waiting. Oh my, you look dapper.”

Fitz wanted to reply, he really did, and yet his mouth gaped slightly ajar as his eyes wandered up and down, taking in Jemma’s evening gown, her intricate hairdo, the subtle yet stunning makeup.

Her eyes widened, seemingly confused by his silence. “Is something wrong? Do I look weird? You mentioned it was a fundraiser, so I assumed—Maybe I should have inquired better about the dress code for this event. I’m terribly sorry if—”

“No, no, no,” Fitz stammered, shaking his head vigorously. “It’s—You—You look nice, is all.”

One corner of his mouth twitched into a nervous half-smile, while Jemma’s lips once again stretched into a blinding smile.

“Oh, good.” She pressed her hand against her chest, giving her eyes an adorable roll. “What a relief. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to embarrass you in front of your co-workers.”

“Ha!” Fitz scoffed loudly. “I don’t need help with that. I—I mean—I mean, I can do that all by myself.”

She pursed her lips, ticking her head to one side and slumping her shoulders. “Aw, now why would you say that?”

Fitz tucked his hands into his pockets, shrugging slightly. “I’m just not good with these kinds of social events. Small talk and all that. There’s a reason why I generally try to get out of them.”

She smiled at him widely. “Well,” she said softly, “I’ll be beside you the whole time. Hopefully my presence will have a calming effect on you.”

A quiet puff of air escaped Fitz’s nostrils, while his heart seemed to beat even quicker at the softness of her tone. “Why do you do all this? Come with me? Be… nice?”

She chuckled quietly, lifting her shoulders nonchalantly. “Well, that’s what friends are for,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“We’ve barely even talked to each other,” Fitz muttered, despite his better judgment.

“Well, I’ve only lived here for a relatively short period,” Jemma countered. “There simply haven’t been many opportunities for conversations, but the ones we’ve had certainly made me believe that there was a friendship developing between us.”

“Really?”

Jemma’s eyes widened. “Yes.” She gestured at him, palm up. “Remember the other day when I asked to borrow an egg from you and you made that wonderful word play. That certainly seemed like a conversation between friends to me.”

“The egg-ceptional pun?” Fitz asked in disbelief.

Jemma’s face lit up. “Yes, I thought that was rather clever.”

“Really? I thought I sounded like an utter moron,” Fitz admitted, while somewhere in the back of his head a little voice that sounded remarkably like Daisy yelled _Marry her!_

“Not at all.” Jemma’s head tilted to one side again. “Oh, Fitz, don’t be so down on yourself.”

“Remember the part where I’m not good at social interactions?”

Another quiet chuckle escaped her. “Well, to be quite frank, I’m not a stranger to being a bit socially awkward myself.”

“What?” Fitz asked in disbelief. “You talk to everyone. Daisy aside, you’ve probably talked more with everyone in this building in your first month here than I have in two years.”

Her wide smiled caused a few rather adorable wrinkles to form in the corners of her eyes. “Well, first of all, there is a big difference between talking one-on-one in a private or semi-private setting and attending a formal function and interacting with larger groups of people. And second of all—”

“Oh god,” Fitz grimaced, gesturing at her, palm up. “I’m making you go to something you hate, and—”

She reached forward, gently touching his forearm and the sensation stopped both his movement and his words.

“Not at all, Fitz,” she told him, looking at him with sincerity. “You’re not making me do anything. I happily volunteered to accompany you. And if you would have let me finish my ‘second of all’, I would have been able to tell you that, yes, while I’ve often felt like the odd one out at large social gatherings, I’ve certainly come a long way over the years, because, while I may not excel at social interactions, I do excel at preparation.”

Fitz furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?

Jemma raised her index finger importantly. “I have developed numerous strategies for social events of various types and sizes. Would you like to hear some?” she added, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

Fitz stared at her wide-eyed. “Please… Obi Wan.”

She laughed out loud before clearing her throat. “Well, the most important thing for these types of events is giving yourself ample opportunity to catch a break and recharge, even if it is only for a moment.”

She continued, tapping with her right index finger at each finger of her left hand as she gave her examples. “Frequent bathroom breaks, but not so frequent that people assume you are ill. Going outside for catching fresh air. _If_ you’re a smoker—which is a horrible habit that you should quit—you may go outside for a cigarette—”

“Not a smoker,” Fitz muttered quietly, shaking his head.

“Excellent,” she replied, grinning widely, before moving on. “Refreshing your drink. Refreshing your escort’s drink. Simply standing within a larger group, pretending to listen, even if you’re going over the final draft of an upcoming conference paper in your head. Seeing someone at the other side of the room with whom you absolutely must catch up—who, unfortunately, will have already left by the time you get to said side of the room. There really are a lot of ways to make oneself scarce for just a wee bit.”

“Hmm,” Fitz hummed thoughtfully, pursing his lips, while his mind tried to recap all her suggestions.

Once again, she raised her index finger to get his attention. “Another thing that really can make a difference, is preparing conversational topics. Now, the rule to avoid politics and religion generally really does apply in most situations, but there are plenty of other topics to choose from. Quite frankly, my favorite is and will always be: the weather.”

Fitz’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “The weather? Really?”

“Yes!” She bobbed her head confidently. “It’s an incredibly versatile topic.”

Once again, she started counting off examples on her fingers. “You can talk about the current weather, the past weather, weather forecast, weather at different locations, and it always gives your conversation partner an opportunity to add something.”

She paused, waving both hands to the side. “For example, the weather here has been rather lovely, while my parents in Sheffield haven’t seen a ray of sunshine in the past two weeks.”

“Oh, yes,” Fitz wiggled his finger at her in agreement. “Glasgow too. My mum’s been saying it’s been raining cats and—” He stopped, freezing for a moment in his movements, before a smile flashed across his face. “Bloody hell!”

Jemma chuckled loudly, presenting her palms to him and looking rather proud. “See! Incredibly versatile. Incredibly simple.”

Fitz shook his head in disbelief. “Weather. Never would have thought.”

“Well, there you go.” She ticked her head to one side, smiling softly. “Don’t you feel much better prepared already?”

Fitz scoffed, one corner of his mouth ticking up briefly. “I kinda do.”

She grinned back at him, scrunching her nose. “Excellent. And like I said, I’ll be beside you the whole time. We’ll do this together.”

Fitz exhaled sharply, nodding in agreement. “Alright.” He cleared his throat, gesturing down the hallway towards the staircase. “Shall we?”

“Yes, “Jemma agreed, before pausing. “Oh, hold on just one second.”

She furrowed her brow in concentration, reaching for Fitz’s tie and adjusting its fit and the collar, before gently patting his chest. “There. Now, let’s go.”

She reached for a shelf next to the door to grab her purse, while Fitz hoped his heart wouldn’t explode right then and there.

She hooked her arm around his, taking a step towards the staircase while simultaneously pulling the door to her flat shut.

“Oh,” she remarked, while she gently dragged the still shell-shocked Fitz with her, “Vacationing is another excellent and versatile topic. Past vacations, planned vacations, dream vacations. It can even often be combined with the weather discussion.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tata! Finally an update. And yes, chapter count went up by one.

Fitz stopped for a moment in his steps, the liquid in the two glasses he was carrying gently swishing back and forth, as he watched Jemma in a lively conversation with Bobbi and Hunter in the distance. She was pressing her hand against her chest, laughing wholeheartedly at something Bobbi had said, and the sight caused a wave of warmth to radiate through Fitz’s entire body.

He drew in a slow breath, exhaling sharply, and for the umpteenth time that evening tried to reassure himself that he really wasn’t dreaming, before taking a step forward and approaching his friends and date… escort… neighbor… Jemma.

“—very much looking forward to their visit,” Fitz managed to catch the last words that Jemma had spoken.

“Hey, Fitz,” Bobbi announced, causing Jemma to turn in Fitz’s direction, her face immediately lighting up with a wide smile that made Fitz’s stomach turn—another feeling he’d experienced repeatedly since he’d picked her up at her apartment.

Fitz cleared his throat, stretching out the hand holding Jemma’s drink. “There you go,” he said quietly. “Gin and tonic.”

Jemma’s smile somehow grew even wider as she accepted the glass.

“Thank you,” she sang sweetly, gently placing her hand on Fitz’s forearm.

She looked at Bobbi and Hunter. “Isn’t he just a true gentleman? Offering to fetch me a drink so we can continue our conversation.”

“He’s really something,” Bobbi replied, giving Fitz a teasing one-sided grin, before nudging Hunter with her elbow. “More gentlemanly than my dear husband for sure.”

“You want a drink, you tell me, I fetch it,” Hunter countered deadpan. “Don’t expect me to read your bloody mind.”

Bobbi gave Hunter a reprimanding look that didn’t seem quite serious, while Jemma and Fitz tried to suppress a chuckle.

“If you want I can go back and get you something, Bobbi,” Fitz offered, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Stop making me look bad, mate,” Hunter exclaimed, fanning his arms out to the side.

Bobbi laughed, placing her hands on Hunter’s arm in a calming gesture. “It’s fine, Hunter, I don’t need a drink right now.”

“Well, there you go. All that fuss for nothing,” Hunter muttered grumpily.

Bobbi stared at her husband, her look this time more stern than before, while Fitz and Jemma exchanged a shy glance.

“So,” Fitz said loudly, trying to get Bobbi’s and Hunter’s attention. “What did I miss?”

“Oh,” Jemma reached over, briefly touching Fitz’s bicep, “I was just telling Bobbi and Hunter how absolutely dreadful the weather in Sheffield has been lately and how my parents can’t wait to visit in two weeks to hopefully enjoy a bit of the lovely sun and warmth we’ve been having.”

“Ah,” Fitz nodded in agreement, taking a sip from his drink, before raising his glass with his index finger extended in Bobbi’s and Hunter’s direction. “Yes, my mum’s been complaining about the weather in Glasgow too. Haven’t had such a cold, wet summer in a long time.”

“Yes, it’s a shame, really,” Jemma chimed back in, shaking her head. “Britain can be so lovely in the summer. Green and lush, and so many diverse landscapes. Have you ever been?” she added, looking back at Bobbi and Hunter, before scoffing in amusement. “Well, obviously, you, Hunter, have been. But what about you, Bobbi?”

“We’ve been to London a few times,” Bobbi replied. “Great city.”

“Isn’t it though?” Jemma agreed. “So much culture, museums, theaters, restaurants. I always love exploring it. My brother lives there with his family, so I’ve had my share of visits.”

She paused, raising her index finger importantly. “Though I strongly recommend that next time you go, you should venture a bit further.”

Bobbi raised her eyebrows curiously, pursing her lips. “Any suggestions?”

“Well,” Jemma pressed her palm against her chest, “while my local pride and patriotism stipulate I say ‘Yorkshire,’ I will have to admit that my heart fell in love with another part of the country a long time ago.”

“Oh really?” Bobbi asked in genuine interest.

Jemma bobbed her head. “Yes. There’s this small cottage in Perthshire we drove by once when I was a girl, some family holiday. And I don't know why, but I found it so lovely. I still think about it. It was an absolutely gorgeous and picturesque landscape. A place where I could very well imagine raising a family one day.”

“Perthshire?” Fitz muttered in surprise. “That’s in Scotland.”

“I know where it is, Fitz,” Jemma replied, furrowing her brow, before once again reaching over to touch Fitz’s arm, a smile spreading across her face. “Oh, but Bobbi and Hunter may not. Thank you for clarifying.”

Fitz cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes. Right. That’s why I said that.”

“Well, that does sound rather beautiful,” Bobbi chimed in, elbowing Hunter teasingly. “Maybe next time we’re in the UK I can convince this grump to leave his beloved London behind for a long weekend in Scotland.”

“Throw in a tour of a whiskey distillery, and you got yourself a deal,” Hunter said, earning him a chuckle from his wife.

“Well, anyways, what—” Bobbi started, when she was interrupted by the high-pitched squeal of a microphone being turned on.

A few echoing taps followed as the speaker tested the mic, before making his announcement.

“Dear guests, dinner service will begin shortly, so please make your way to your assigned tables.”

“Oh,” Bobbi exclaimed wide-eyed. “Guess it’s time for food.”

“‘Bout time,” Hunter mumbled. “I’m starving.”

“Are we at the same table?” Jemma asked curiously, a hopeful tone in her voice.

“Nah, unfortunately not,” Fitz explained, lifting his chin in Bobbi’s direction. “Bobbi sits with the big shots.”

“Oh, too bad.” Jemma ticked her head to one side. “Well, I hope we get a chance to talk a bit more later.”

“Likewise,” Bobbi agreed. “It’s been great meeting you, Jemma.”

She looked into the distance before addressing her husband. “We better get going before Price wonders where we are.”

Bobbi took a step forward, brushing her shoulder against Fitz’s in passing and leaning closer as she whispered, “Nice job with the plus-one.”

Fitz briefly glanced at his friend and supervisor, his heart suddenly beating a million miles a minute.

He waited until Bobbi and Hunter had left before turning to face Jemma, smiling shyly and gesturing in the direction of their assigned table. “Shall we?”

“Absolutely,” Jemma replied, hooking her arm around Fitz’s and pulling him closer. “You’re doing marvellous so far, by the way. We’ll turn you into a social gathering pro in no time.”


	4. Chapter 4

Fitz pulled the door to the apartment building open, smiling widely as Jemma stepped past him, still laughing wholeheartedly over a memory from early in the evening.

“Hunter really is a character, isn’t he?” she remarked, happy wrinkles decorating the corners of her eyes.

Fitz scoffed in amusement as the door fell shut behind him. He tucked his hands in his pockets, nodding in agreement. “He really is.”

“Oh, I had such a lovely evening, Fitz.” Jemma walked to the staircase, but suddenly paused, her smile disappearing and a slight frown appearing instead. She bent down and slid her shoes off, picking them up with one hand. “Ugh, although these put a slight damper on my enjoyment.”

Fitz grimaced. “Sorry ‘bout stepping on your foot.”

Jemma laughed quietly, taking the first step up towards their floor. “Oh, Fitz, I would hardly call that light brush of your foot on mine while we danced ‘stepping on it.’ No, these shoes are simply meant to look good and not be comfortable and now I’m paying the price for my vanity.”

“Glad you enjoyed the evening,” Fitz said as he followed her up the stairs.

“Oh, I really did,” Jemma confirmed. “Your friends are wonderful. And my parents will be quite pleased when I invite them to a three-star restaurant when they visit.”

They stopped next to her apartment door, Fitz pressing his lips together in mild embarrassment, rocking back and forth on his feet. “You really didn’t have to bid on anything during the silent auction.”

Jemma gasped. “Nonsense! It was for a good cause and quite the steal, I believe.”

Fitz pulled one hand out of his pocket, rubbing his neck before gesturing at Jemma. “I should have bid on it for you.”

Jemma chuckled, giving Fitz a teasing look. “I’ll have you know that my salary is quite decent. I could certainly afford it.”

“No, no, no,” Fitz exclaimed, staring at Jemma wide-eyed. “That’s not what I—I didn’t—Of course you can—” He exhaled sharply. “I just meant, you did me this huge favor and came with me tonight and I didn’t do anything to repay you.”

Jemma’s expression softened. “Oh, Fitz. There’s no need. As I said before, I was more than happy to accompany you. I spent a wonderful evening in extraordinary company—for a good cause, might I repeat. I enjoyed a delicious meal and dancing. Really, you shouldn’t feel at all like you owe me.”

Fitz couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from ticking up into a shy smile. He could feel his heart beat rapidly in his chest and his stomach once again churn with longing. He cleared his throat, scratching the skin below his ear. “So, umm—” He gestured at Jemma, “maybe we could do that again sometime?”

Jemma’s face lit up as a single laugh escaped her lips. “You have any other work functions coming up that require an escort?”

Fitz balled the hand he’d used to gesture at Jemma. “No, no.” He extended the index finger of the same hand, waving it back and forth between the two of them. “I meant, just you and me and—”

Fitz inhaled a sharp breath when Jemma suddenly cupped his face with her free hand, pressing her lips softly against his.

“I’d love to,” she said, barely above a whisper as she pulled away.

Fitz stared at her open-mouthed and in a mix of awe and shock, before his mouth twitched into a hopeful smile. He pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, curling his fingers around the back of her neck and leaning closer.

“Then maybe dinner tomorrow? Or… or brunch?” he muttered, before kissing her again.

“Brunch sounds lovely,” Jemma replied, her breath tickling Fitz’s lips before she closed the gap between them once more.

“So, I—” Fitz exhaled breathlessly, mesmerized by the whiskey-hazel of her irises. “I’ll text you tomorrow?” He furrowed his brow, taking a quick glance at his own apartment door. “Or just knock?”

Jemma let out a quiet laugh. “I’m usually quite the early bird, so you can safely knock without risking waking me.”

Fitz nodded, somehow managing to stammer an “Alright” in reply.

Jemma leaned forward, kissing him again, their tongues dancing slowly against each other.

“Part of me wants to invite you in,” Jemma whispered against Fitz’s lips, “but—” She sighed. “But I probably shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, no, no,” Fitz muttered, shaking his head. “I—I’m gonna need a few hours to process this and believe it actually happened anyways, so—” He couldn’t help but smile widely. “Raincheck?”

Jemma chuckled, her eyes beaming with joy. “Most definitely.”

She pressed another soft kiss to Fitz’s lips. “Good night, Fitz.”

“Good night, Jemma.”

Jemma reached into her purse and pulled out her keys, opening the door and stepping inside. She turned around once more.

“Good night,” she repeated, barely above a whisper.

Fitz couldn’t help but smile. “Good night.” He watched as she closed the door and then stared at the wooden surface in front of him, reaching up with one hand, trying to resist the urge to touch her door.

“No offence, Piper, but I think his evening was more eventful than ours.”

Fitz spun around, his heart suddenly beating a hundred miles a minute from Daisy’s sudden interruption. He stared at his roommate and her girlfriend, who were grinning at him mischievously.

“Oh, none taken, Babe. The concert was good, but for straight people this was some A+ lip-action,” Piper added.

Fitz felt a blush creep up his cheeks. He raised his hand, gesturing aimlessly in the vague direction of Jemma’s door. “Umm, I was—We were—”

“Oh, we know what you were,” Daisy teased. “It was hard to miss.”

Fitz fell silent, knowing full well that he had no comeback for his quick-witted roommate and her sassy partner.

Daisy took the last few steps up the stairs until she stood next to Fitz, Piper following right behind her. She slapped Fitz’s shoulder, bobbing her head once. “Nice job, Fitzy.” She turned to Piper, snaking her arm around her girlfriend’s waist and walking with her to their apartment door.

“I really need to work on a boy’s name,” she mumbled quietly.


	5. Epilogue

Jemma sat on the couch, her legs resting on the coffee table and her hands laying on her growing baby bump. If it hadn’t been for her wrinkled forehead and her fiery eyes, she’d looked rather domestic and peaceful.

“We are not naming our child Sir Michael Carmichael Zutt!” she growled angrily.

Fitz nervously rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging apologetically. “Hey, I talked her out of Oliver Boliver Butt.”

Jemma’s mouth gaped ajar for a moment. “And you think that’s an accomplishment?” she asked him, wide-eyed.

Fitz pulled one side of his mouth up, looking pitifully at his wife.

Jemma threw one hand in the air. “I can _not_ believe you promised Daisy she could name your firstborn.”

Fitz fanned his arms out to the side. “I was desperate and—” He wiggled his finger in Jemma’s direction. “And you have to admit she delivered. Not only did she find me a plus-one for my work function, she found me a wife.”

A ghost of a smile flashed across Fitz’s face that Jemma briefly seemed to mirror before her expression grew frustrated again.

“Still, you don’t just promise people they can name your firstborn,” she said sternly. “That’s a recipe for disaster!”

Fitz lifted his shoulders to his ears. “I didn’t think she’d take it so seriously.”

Jemma dropped her head back, rolling her eyes. “Oh, please, you’ve known her longer than I have. She would never give up an opportunity like that.”

“I thought she’d forget,” Fitz added to his weak defence.

“Ha!” Jemma let out a single sarcastic laugh. “As if! And even if she had, I bet Piper would have remembered for her.”

Fitz gestured with both hands at Jemma’s midsection. “There’s a 50/50 chance it’s a girl. I mean, Daisy isn’t such a bad suggestion, right?”

But Jemma didn’t grab the straw Fitz had tried to offer. Her eyes grew even wider and even more furious. “Oh, there’s a 50/50 chance it’s a girl?” she repeated, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Well, that changes everything and naturally means Daisy should choose whatever bloody boy’s name she fancies, because there’s a 50/50 chance we won’t have to explain to our child why they’re being ridiculed for being called Sir Michael Carmichael Zutt Fitz-Simmons.”

Fitz flinched slightly when Jemma yelled their shared last name. He slumped his shoulders, taking a step towards his wife. “I’m sorry, Jemma. You’re right. I should have never—I mean, I bet these aren’t even serious suggestions. Sir Michael Carmichael Zutt? Oliver Boliver Butt? Daisy’s a bit wacko, but she’s not completely insane. She’s probably just trying to tease me.”

Jemma’s expression softened. “Well, of course she is, but her teasing is stressing your increasingly pregnant wife out more and more, because I do want to honor the little promise you made her three years ago, even though it’s a bit silly, but—”

“I’ll go back to her and put my foot down,” Fitz said, crossing the distance to the couch and sitting down next to Jemma, placing his hands on top of hers where they were resting on her stomach. “A list of serious suggestions that we can choose from? How does that sound?”

A smile flashed across Jemma’s face. “Agreeable.”

* * *

It was three months later that Jonathan Percy Fitz-Simmons was born, his name derived from Daisy’s last name and Piper’s first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand... I finally finished it. Thanks so much for your patience, everyone.
> 
> P.S. For those who don't know yet, my headcanon is that Piper's name is Persephone Piper and her parents called her Peppa... that's why she prefers to just go by Piper ;)
> 
> P.P.S. Sir Michael Carmichael Zutt and Oliver Boliver Butt are from the Dr. Suess story "Too Many Daves," which our daughter loves and especially "Oliver Boliver Butt" cracks her up to no end ;)


End file.
